Conscience

By Teguh Winarsho AS

I still cannot change my fate although I have lived a married life for three years now and have a child. Just like when I was a university student, I now live on a monthly "subsidy" from my parents. What else can I do? I simply have to accept the fact that I still need this "subsidy" to survive. But, please, don't call us lazy bones. My wife and I have never stopped trying to be financially independent. Trying and trying and trying. Unfortunately, luck is still not on our side.

My wife is a graduate of a teacher's training institute. She has applied for the position of a teacher at a government school several times but is yet to get lucky. She has to be content to work as an honorary teacher at several places, hopping from one senior high school to another just to earn a meager amount of money at the end of the month. I really don't have the heart -- or, perhaps, courage, to mention how much she earns a month. Well, on second thought, does she really earn anything at all? How much does she have to spend on transportation, hopping from one school to another every day? It is a struggle indeed.

I myself have always sent in an application every time there is a civil service registration opening. I wouldn't stick to short-story writing if I could be accepted in the civil service and proudly put on the batik uniform of Korpri (the Corps of the Civil Service of the Republic of Indonesia).

Every night I have to stay up very late to finish a short story -- though I cannot be sure whether this story will ever be published -- so that I can spend the honorarium for my child's milk. Well, in fact, you cannot write a short story without spending your own money first. You need the paper, cigarettes, diskettes or even coffee. Unless you get your honorarium -- meaning that your short story is published -- every month you will have to spend money for nothing.

My hand suddenly trembled just as I was about to knock on the door of my father's house. Suddenly I was seized by a great fear. I did know where this fear came from, but it suddenly enveloped my whole being. When I left home, I mustered all my courage for this meeting with Dad.

Our meeting two months earlier was still fresh in my mind. In a departure from his usual habit, he coldly received me. I was really in an awkward position. After chatting with him for some time, I found out why he had such a cold attitude toward me. Again, the same old reason: You haven't got a job, son.

Dad was comparing my fate with that of Herman, the son of our next-door neighbor, who had just been appointed a civil servant. He said Herman was very serious and diligent in his university years so that as soon as he graduated he could get a job.

I knew for sure that Dad was being sarcastic. True, when I was a university student I took part in many extra-curricular activities. Then, when I joined a non-governmental organization I was imprisoned along with four fellow activists because of a demonstration we staged in the campus grounds. The charge was subversion.

Dad mentioned Herman's name several times. He said Herman was a good son and that he could always see what his parents wanted him to do. He also knew how to repay his parents. In short, Dad said many more good things about Herman. In fact, I knew Herman inside out. I knew all about his activities, tricks and reputation. He was very good at currying favor and was really sly. I believed Dad had heard that Herman was accepted in the civil service because he had bribed an official in charge of recruitment. Yes, the whole village, I suppose, knew that Herman's father had sold two buffaloes for this purpose.

I could understand this bastard Herman that Dad kept on praising. I knew he used to hate such dirty practices. I still remember him saying that bribery is strongly prohibited by our religion. If you bribe someone, then you and someone receiving the bribe will both be punished for the same sin. Now? Has Dad forgotten his own words? I quietly asked myself.

"Don't refuse this time!" he said, putting on the table a neat bundle of money. I almost jumped out of my seat as a result of my great surprise. How can he have so much money? I wondered.

"I have sold the rice field. Use this money for you and your wife. If you need some more, I can sell another rice field. What matters to me is that you both can get a job," he said. He did not tell me his real intention though.

As soon as I got home, I put the money in a safe place. Well, it was a substantial amount of money indeed, and I did not want to pick up quarrel with my wife about it. Marni, my wife, would be furious if she knew I had brought home the money to bribe someone. She hates such practices very much.

"Come in!" Dad said when I mustered all my courage and knocked on the door.

I entered the house and took a seat at some distance from him. I tried to avoid the peak of his fury. I could not imagine how furious Dad would be when he learned of my failure to be recruited by the civil service for the umpteenth time. Yes, I have failed again. I have failed to be accepted in the civil service.

"Sorry, Dad, I cannot fulfill your wish," I said, handing over the money from some two months earlier. The money was still intact. I did not dare to look at this amount, let alone take one note from the bundle.

Dad only grinned. His lips trembled. Obviously he was trying hard not to let his anger get the better of him.

"Stubborn, really stubborn!" he hissed angrily. His face was red all over. His two eyes were fiery. That was the first time I had ever seen Dad overcome by rage.

"Haven't I told you the umpteenth time that I can no longer afford to see you fail. And now? Again you have failed. Come on, open your eyes wide and look at Herman," he said, still enraged.

"I did not fail, Dad," I said in a hoarse voice. Something must have blocked my throat.

"Did I hear it clearly? You did not fail, eh?" With great cynicism he turned his head away from me. In the meantime, Mom, seated next to him, could not find a word to say.

"No, I didn't fail. At least I did not fail to keep my conscience clear."

"When things are like what you see around you, you still have the guts to mention your conscience? To hell with it!"

I looked down, silent. Dad drew deeply on his cigarette.

"Take Marni, your wife, as your example. She has taken my advice and now she is successful," Dad said again.

"Sorry? Did I hear it correctly that Marni was accepted thanks to bribery?" I asked. What my father had said shocked me indeed.

Dad chuckled.

"Yes. Sometime ago your wife came here. She told me that you had not given her the money I had given you. I thought then that you wanted the money for yourself. So, I have sold another rice field and I have given the proceeds to your wife," he said. There was a note of victory in his voice.

Suddenly I felt weak, very weak indeed. I really had to make a great effort to get up from the chair and take leave from Dad. I did not regain my energy until Dad disappeared from my sight.

***

When I went through the front gate of my house, I found Marni sitting in the front terrace. She smiled and gave me a warm welcome. Her face was radiant. Suddenly, I was sick of her face. Really sick of it.

Phew! I spat before her. Precisely indeed!

Yogyakarta, 1998

Born in Kulon Progo on December 27, 1978, the writer also writes poems and essays. His work has been published in Republika, Suara Pembaruan, Suara Karya, Bisnis Indonesia, Pikiran Rakyat, Nova, Bernas and Kedaulatan Rakyat. In 1996 his anthology of poems Kepak Merpati (Flap of a Dove) was published.

-- Translated by Lie Hua